Of course, right at the beginning of her school life at Lakeview Hall, Nan Sherwood had made friends with the little girls. They all soon learned that Nan was sympathetic, could enter into their play with perfect equality, was glad to help them in their lessons, and altogether filled the part of “Big Sister” to perfection.
Bess did not care so much for children. Perhaps it was because she had some bothersome small brothers and sisters at home. Nan, who was an only child, had always longed for a brother or sister. Although she could not remember him, the tiny brother who had lived a short few weeks at the “little dwelling in amity,” and then had gone away forever, was much in Nan Sherwood’s thoughts.
“It gets me,” Bess sputtered once to her chum, “how you can actually play dolls with those primary kids—a big girl like you.”
“I like dolls,” said Nan, placidly.
“Huh! I believe you do,” cried Bess. “I wonder you don’t litter up our room with ’em—and doll clothes and baby carriages and cradles,” and Bess laughed gaily, with no idea of how close she had come to touching upon Nan’s secret.
Dr. Prescott did not make the chums pay for the lost canoe, so Nan, relieved of the necessity for doing so, decided not to tell her father and mother about the canoe accident, as she knew they would worry needlessly. Nor did careless Bess tell her parents. Bess had a strong personal reason for keeping the adventure a secret. She did not want to put any obstacle in the way of the purchase of the boat she was teasing for.
Nan was writing long and enthusiastic letters to Scotland. In return she received from both “Momsey” and “Papa Sherwood” most encouraging reports of the progress of the court proceedings over Mr. Hughie Blake’s will, under the terms of which Mrs. Sherwood was to receive considerable wealth. It seemed that the controversy was practically finished, and Nan’s parents would soon be coming home. In one of these letters, received early in the school year, Nan found a five pound note “to do just what she pleased with.”
“Oh! what’ll you do with so much money?” gasped Bess. “And all in a bunch. Twenty-five dollars! Why, Nan, your father must be richer than mine!”
“They know I haven’t had much heretofore to spend extravagantly,” responded Nan, her eyes twinkling, “while you have been extravagant all your life.”
“Well! My father never gives me such a sum all at once for spending money. But you’re so cautious, Nan. Ugh! ‘sensible!’ I hate that word!”